Welcome to the Tales of The Broken Order. Here is where you can follow the D&D adventures of The Broken Order and the tales of the land. Meet the players and their characters along with all the important NPCs. Also read chapters from my upcoming book “Moon Fall” based in the same world.

I am Nelson Snow, your writer and Dungeon Master. The game I have written is all Homebrew with the exception of the story hook and first quest line, which is from Lost Mine of Phandelver. I will also be sharing some of my DM tips and tricks to help some of you along your own path to become a DM. You can find me on twitter @TheBroken0rder

As obvious as this might seem, I have been a part of D&D groups that take thing way too seriously and act like the PHB (Player’s Hand Book) is the holy scripture (All Hail the Holy Gygax). I believe it to be quite the contrary, It is a tool that opens up a world to the player’s and the DM (Dungeon Master).

These tool that are granted by us by our masters at Wizards of the Coast should be used as guidelines to a good time. I almost always bend the rules, and sometimes break them, for a good narrative or an awesome character moment.

One of the first’s group I was a part of was very by the book and strict group. I always felt like the DM was always testing our patience and out to get us. I have this one clear memory of fighting a human beserker. I was a ranger and I was using distance to my advantage, keeping out of his range. The DM thought it would be a good idea for the berserker to pick up and throw a boulder at me. I thought, “Cool, if he hits it shouldn’t be too bad.” The DM thought that 2d20 (Equivalent to a Stone Giant’s Boulder which is 4d10) damage would suffice. He knocked me out in one hit, all because I figured how to fight smart against an enemy he threw at me. I was punished for playing smart.

On the contrary, my player’s decided they wanted chicken wings in the tavern they were staying at. Being that in those times wings were usually used only to make broth and stock (I legit researched that) it was unheard of. So hearing my player tell the barkeep how to make wings is a great moment for me. Now wherever they go they order wings and tell the bars to call the The Broken Order Wings. I love it.

The point I am trying to get across is that we are all sitting at the table to have fun. In my last session the party was coming back from having lost a party member and one of their NPC friends running away, so the party decided to hit a bar and they role played in the bar for a good hour and a half. They drank up, seduced some men, robbed some of them(that was the rouge Krisage), got into bar fights, and found their lost NPC. Sure there are battles to be fought and evils to be demolished, but heroes are people too and my players were going through that. Some DMs might have rushed the bar but not me, I feel like there was character growth and even some potential future plot lines in the simple things in life.

Make sure you’re having fun in whatever table top game you’re playing. Even if your game is serious and by the books, don’t let it stop you from stopping and smelling the Fading Lilies in game. Who knows, you might find some long forgotten treasure on the side of the road.

From what the scout said, the marauder camp had to be close by. Apoc was having a hard time sensing their location. Something was interfering with his magic. It was like trying to see someone through a thick cloud of smoke; disorientating and impossible. That was another reason he figured he was in the right place. The rough terrain was perfect for hiding and keeping a low profile. There were crevasses that crisscrossed through the green hills making it impossible to search each and every nook without a whole army. If the bandits found an area large enough they could set up a small camp or even a settlement.

For the last few months a couple of traders went missing or came to the Junction after they had been robbed by highwaymen. It was so far and few between that it seemed random. Like a group of raiders passing by that just happened to come across an easy target of a caravan. It wasn’t uncommon. The lands outside of the cities tended to be wild especially to the west. While the pattern seemed to be random, Apoc decided to keep track of the raiding around his city. There was an area that was constantly plagued by raiding a couple of times a month. He sent a scout to see if there was any validation to his suspicions. The scout came back bloodied and injured he took it upon himself to end the raider threat himself. He wanted to make sure the threat would be ended.

The twins were out there with him. They were searching for most of the night keeping a low profile. The small party of three allowed them to be stealthy.

Apoc sighed as another crevasse he came across was empty. The sun was just below the horizon and would break any minute and their cover of darkness would not last much longer.

“I see camp fires on a landing below me. I think I found them,” Liam’s voice resonated inside of Apoc’s head.. Apoc made his way toward him without making a sound, it was one of the benefits of being an Elf. The starlight above was the only light he needed to navigate the treacherous terrain, his students needed to be more cautious with their footing. Peeking over the edge of the crevasse, Liam and Morgan looked like two small children about to cause some trouble. To Apoc, they were only children, but to a human, they were young adults, and they were definitely going to cause trouble.

Apoc looked down into the crevasse. He could see the people but he could barely sense them. Either there was too much energy coming from the earth or there was something interfering with his magical sense. Either way, it was an issue.

The twins looked up at him and smiled. They seemed proud of their find and were looking for their teacher’s approval. He gave them a nod. They were dressed similarly in leather armor with a bladed shied on their backs. Liam’s short hair was a dark blonde while Morgan’s hair was long and Brown. They shared the same hazel eyes and they were both looking at him with anticipation, awaiting their next orders.

“What have you learned?” Apoc pushed his hair back behind his shoulders.

“The men who are keeping watch have talked little but what they have said is useful. They are talking about whether they should rob another coach tomorrow or to move locations.” Liam’s eyes were searching down below as he talked.

“There are also hostages in the back of a cave. One of the men was talking about having his way with one of the women but then thought against it because their boss would not approve,” Morgan added as she too studied the camp down below.

“The overall theme of this party is that they are all afraid of the boss. But they haven’t said much about him.” Liam looked up at Apoc and then back to the men on watch.

“How big do you think their camp is?” Apoc took a glance of his own and saw at least ten men on watch but no one sleeping. He figured that they must have a decent cave system with a pretty large amount of men.

“No telling. I think that what we see here is only the men on watch and not the ones asleep. There are ten down there right now, and let’s say that they are splitting four shifts a night so everyone can get a good night’s sleep then we are looking at well over forty men who are paranoid. Maybe they came across a big find and are worried that someone might come along to take it. It seems like a lot to have this many men on watch.” He was glad to see them thinking on their own.

“What do you think we should do next?” Apoc asked. His students were doing really well so far.

“I was going to try a sleep spell but something is affecting my magic. I think we might have to use one of us as bait to draw them toward the entrance and then two of us can drop down on them and cut off their route into the caves,” Liam said.

“I’ll be the bait. These kind of men might be more enthusiastic about a woman stumbling into their den rather than a man or an elf.” Before anyone had time to protest she was off toward the entrance.

Apoc let out a heavy sigh as he ran his fingers through his hair. She was always eager to catch men underestimating her. After a few minutes he could hear Morgan over exaggerating her steps to get the men’s attention.

“Please help, I haven’t had water in days.” She stumbled into the light of the torches and you could hear the men’s faces shape into smiles. She held onto the wall for support and waited for them to come to her. All of the Men stood up at the same time and rushed toward her. They wanted to be the first one to get their hands on her. With all of the men stuffed into the narrow ridge, Apoc and Liam jumped down the twenty feet and landed as softly as a feather.

“I have something for you love.” He man reached to grab her but she moved faster than they could think.

“I have something for you too.” The tip of her blade was through his back and he was stunned. He tried to say something but all that could escape his throat was strained grunts and blood. He looked up at her with wide eyes filled with disbelief and fear of death. This bandit never thought that he would lose his life to a woman. She yanked the blade out and the bandit’s limp body hit the ground like a bag of meat.

Before the men knew what was happening she cut down two more, one was decapitated and the other eviscerated. The blood that covered Morgan made her look like a wild woman. The look on her face was steel and could cut down an army. The remaining seven men stopped in their tracks and turned on around only to be face to face with Liam and Apoc. Liam already had his short sword out and cut down the two men that jumped him. The bandits left their weapons behind and only came at them with their belted knives. They were neither fast nor strong enough to ever come close to Liam.

The remaining five men saw that Apoc was unarmed and charged at him with reckless abandoned in an attempted to snake by him. It was the biggest mistake any of those men made that night. Apoc’s long hair hid his pointed ears and he wore the same leather armor as his students. It was rare for an Elf to stray from their people, or even wear vestments that were not made by them. There was no indication from far that he was an Elf so it was understandable that he looked unarmed and an easy target to men like them. They thought to take the chance and charge him, in their minds they were as good as passed him. If he was just any regular unarmed Elf, two of them might have slipped by, but Apoc was a Demi, a God Killer.

Demis are made when an Elf gives birth to twins. Giving birth is one of the most traumatic events for the mother and for the father. When an Elf is born it absorbs a part of the parent’s power and is very painful. If there are two children being born the extraction of power kills the mother and on occasion kills the father. In most cases the second twin dies, but if they survive it creates an opening of power from the world and grants them almost limitless power. Apoc was lucky enough to have his brother and Father live.

To Apoc, the men were moving in slow motion. He had all the time in the world. The first man was charging headlong with a knife in hand. With his hand flat, Apoc struck the man in the throat with his fingertips and crushed the bandit’s windpipe. The man trying to run passed Apoc on his left got a palm onto his side effectively stopping his heart. With his right hand, Apoc jabbed the man to his right in the kidney causing it to explode. The last two men stopped when they saw the first three men drop at the same time. Their shock was enough for Morgan and Liam to get another kill a piece.

“Every time you do that, I barely catch a glimpse of what you’re actually doing,” Morgan whispered.

“I have to do that once and a while. If I try to go to fast I’ll dislocate my shoulders.” It was one of the cons of being a Demi. His power was limitless but his body had its limits. He had to get as close to his limits as possible without passing them to keep in the best of shape. Most Demi died because they exert too much force and end up blowing their bodies apart. It almost happened to Apoc and his brother, Seth, at the end of the last war over a century ago.

He turned toward the caves and stretched his shoulders. He knew he could move faster but not much faster. He saw that there were three cave openings but only two were lit.

“You two go into the dark cave and kill the men sleeping in there. I’ll go and search the other two.” Apoc pointed toward the dark cake where he could hear the men breathing softly.

With a nod, the twins tip toed into the cave with their knives in their hands. Apoc ran into the middle cave. There were torches connected to the cave walls and it reached far back. As far as he could see there was no one there. Down at the end he saw a large metal cage. There was a large padlock on it that prevented the door from being open. Inside he could see men and woman huddled into the back corner. He saw that they were mostly traders and he recognized some of them. He wrapped his hand around the lock and swiftly pulled it off of the cage.

“I need everyone to be very quiet. I’m not here to hurt you,” Apoc said. They remained in the back of the cage, very apprehensive about getting out. The prisoners were looking passed Apoc at something that was behind him. Apoc turned around just in time as a knife was being thrusted in his direction. He turned his body and grabbed on to the arm that was attacking him and threw it at the wall. The person he threw flipped midair and landed feet first on the wall. Apoc knew then that this was more than just a marauder camp. This group was led by an Immortal. A being of magic that was usually revered as a deity. It was dressed in black clothes and its face was shrouded by a shadow that shouldn’t have been there. The knives were crafted in a design that must have taken hundreds of years to accomplish. They were as black as the night and he was certain that they were sharper than any razor.

In a voice that seemed to come from another world it spoke, “These are my charges. I will not allow you to take them from me.” It launched another attack. Apoc knew that his sword would be too slow to face the Immortal so he pulled his belt knives from his back. The knives hissed eagerly as he pulled them from their sheaths. He could feel the designs on the leather and he knew the exquisitely designed blades were equal to the Immortals blades. He parried the incoming blows. They were engaged in combat that was faster than the eye could follow. He locked up with the Immortal and spoke.

“You’re faster than any Immortal I’ve ever faced. Impressive.” Even though Apoc was face to face with it he could only see the shadow.

“Apoc Salamander.” It was a statement rather than a question. The Immortal backed away and sheath its weapons. “I concede. My Name is Mask. My life is forfeit if you will it.” Mask got on his knee and bowed his head.

“I’m not going to kill you. If I do your family would vow revenge for all time. I have enough Immortals trying to kill me already, I don’t want to add another family. Why were you out here taking these people to begin with?”

Mask stood up and removed his hood. His face came into light and he appeared to be a handsome young man. His hair was shoulder length and gold and his eyes were all violet without any whites. “I am one of the Rouge Immortals. I usually help mercenaries and lonesome travelers but I was summoned here and trapped by an Elf.”

Apoc could feel the color drain from his face, “You said there is an Elf here? Where is he?”

“She is in her quarters in the far cave. Her name is Ril, from the looks of her she is from the Northwood.”

“Can you take me to her?”

He could hear Liam and Morgan make their way into the cave. They were covered in more blood than he thought they should have been.

“Is that an Immortal?” Morgan asked.

“An Immortal of Rouges to be exact,” Mask said.

“Sweet,” Liam added, blood dripping from his blade.

“Get these people out of here while I go for their leader.” He ordered sternly. They nodded as they began to escort the prisoners out of the cage and out of the cave.

“This way.” Mask led him into one of the side tunnels and further into the cave. He could see now that there were rooms and that the cave system was more complex than he expected. With his magic senses stifled he still felt disorientated. It wasn’t a feeling he liked to have. He saw that there were more men than he expected. There was practically an army in the caves. The men in front were only there for watches and to raise an alarm if need be. He passed multiple rooms until he came to a wooden door.

Her name is forgotten to her through tragedy, however she remembers her home and people very well, along with the Drow that brought their demise. She remembers that day clearly. It is burned into her eyes like the fire that rises from them when she burns with fury.

Within the Duskmeadow Reach lies a land filled with hope and promise. People of all race and background congregate to live in peace, and find themselves within the vast meadows and woods of the elevated crag. Along the lake sat Raven. Long white hair tied neatly back in a braid that traveled down her spine to find rest in between her tucked wings. Her blue skin radiating in the light of the setting sun. Her horns wrapping around and framing her face are adorned by wild flowers and baby’s breath.

With her shoes off she traced the water with her toes making ripples in the everstill lake of the Reach. She opened her hands to cast druid craft creating a three petaled flower, each with it’s own color. Red, pink, and white. The fading lily. It was the sigil of her house. She had been practicing her magics for a couple of years, waiting for the chance to go out and test her strength.

Dark clouds coalesced on the horizon. Raven squinted her eyes to the distant storm and saw the lighting dancing along the top of the clouds. She cast druid craft once more and a ball of wind, rain, and lightning formed above her cradled hands.

“I have to go, I have to go!” She said in a panicked hurry. She jumped to her feet forgetting her shoes in the process. “This is the worst storm I’ve ever seen.”

Running into the forest she called forth the power of the wild and her grey eyes shift to gold. Her blue skin grew fur and she grows a snout. A white wolf leapt through the trees and bounded off into the woods. As Raven approached the village the smell of burning wood and flesh reach her powerful nose. Her run slowed into a stealthy walk.

“Listen to me. Run, far away, don’t come into the village. I love you. Please, you don’t need to see.” The familiar feeling of her mother’s sending spell covered her mind and sent shivers down her canine spine. Above the tree line black smoke rose from where the village should be.

Ignoring her mother’s orders, Raven ran headfirst into danger. Keeping low to the ground she knew that she was well hidden in the brush. She could smell the blood from the village, it was painful. The closer she got the more apparent the carnage. Bodies of the village men were strewn about. She crept low and kept to the tall grass as two Drow scouts walked by. Unaware of her, they kept walking as they talked.

“We had a good pull today. Even captured a couple of tieflings. Kana is pleased.”

“They should fetch their weight in silver.”

The Drow walked the perimeter of town, seemingly searching for more village people. The white wolf followed the pair and kept her distance in hopes of finding her family. The Drow walked deeper into the town and the dark elves’ numbers began to rise.

Getting closer to the center of town she could see the women and children of the village gathered together in chains. In the center of the group are two blue tieflings, as clear as day to Raven. She catches her mother’s eyes.

“(Omitted), I told you not to come. Please, leave, before they take you too.” She is bloodied and one eye is swollen shut. Sitting on a wagon amidst the crowd, a female Drow, sits comfortable. Her hair is short and she has a gnarly scar on her face. She was clearly Kana. Surrounding the prisoners were eight Drow that Raven could see.

Raven replied through the sending spell, “I’m going to free you, hold tight.” Raven turned around to run to the outskirts of town with a plan devised in her head.

“Men, grab the wolf!” The Drow sorceress shouted.

Hearing the footsteps behind her she ducked behind one of the buildings and changed back into her real form. Four of the Drow men turned the corner and came face to face with a smiling blue face. With a crash of thunder all four the the Drow were knocked across the street and fell unconscious.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING! DON’T FIGHT, RUN!” Her mother’s voice boomed through the village louder than natural.

Kana rose from her seat as the rain began to pick up. Real thunder filled the air. Raven rounded the corner with a blade of flame in her hands. In the center of the town Kana is holding a blade to Raven’s mother’s throat.

“Surrender now and I won’t slit her throat.”

“Baby, please run, be free. I love you”

With tears in her eyes, Raven knew she had no choice as she tried her voice, “I love you, I’m sorry. I’ll find you, I promise.”

Kana smiled and dragged the blade across her throat. Crimson blood mixed with the rain. Raven unfurled her wings and released a fiery cry as her eyes lit up in a white flame. The four remaining Drow attempted to jump and grab her. With a flash of light, fire flashed from Raven as the tiefling flew straight up with blinding speed, her tears lost in the rain.

Curled up in the morning haze, Raven shivered, holding herself. She knew she was somewhere in the Norian Forest, but she knew not where and she was alone. She heard a low growl as a pack of wolves began to surround her. She didn’t care what happened. She waited for her fate. *sniff sniff* She felt the cold nose push her and try to lift her head up. She obliged and was welcomed by licks to the face.

For years she roamed the lands as one of the pack. Scouting ahead and finding prey for the pack.

Nast was on his way to Ashhammer when he spotted the pack of wolves scavenging his freshly killed deer. He strung his bow back and was preparing to let his arrow fly to save his kill. He was becoming weaker by the day and he needed everything to keep his strength up. Before he could get the Arrow off, Raven stood arms outreached protecting her pack from Nast.

“No,” was the only word that she could muster. It had been so long since she has spoken any words.

Nast raised the bow away and put the arrow back in his quiver. “I’m sorry. Look I’m putting it away. Who are you?”

She was taken aback by the words. It took her a second to think of her name. “Raven.”

“How long have you been out here?”

“Two winters have gone by but I’m not sure how long it’s been.”

A raven flew down from a tree and landed on Nast’s shoulder. “Raven meet Zero.”

Raven smiled for the first time in a long time. “Hello, Zero.”

Raven is played by Jennifer. She loves Game of Thrones and has pledged her loyalty to The King in the North. She loves her two dogs Oreo and Bella. In our satellite game she played a Tabaxi Rouge named Jett. We might get to him later. She likes long walk on the beach, sunsets, and reading (Sorry ladies and gentleman, she is taken).

Nast Garav stood on a tall branch of an oak looking for signs of movement or any trace of the wolf he was tracking. Being a half elf let him see in the dark better than most creatures in the forest. The wolf he was tracking was exiled by the pack and preying on the clan’s livestock. He couldn’t let that continue. Without a sound, Nast landed on the forest floor.

He understood the wolf, that feeling of not belonging, it’s what he felt every day. While he was welcomed into the clan he knew that they liked to keep him at arm’s length except for his mother and sister. The wolf must have felt the same thing. The fingers of a bush branch had some wolf fur on it and Nast could barely see the wolf’s footprints on top of some rocks. The wolf didn’t want to be found, but Nast always found his prey… always.

It was just an hour before dawn when he came across the river. The wolf was curled up underneath a large rock formation trying to keep out the cold. It was old. Nast could see; it’s breathes were ragged and labored, its fur was dirtied and bloodied. The death he would give it would be a gift. The white wolf opened its eyes as he nocked the arrow. Its green eyes stared into his own. It was as if ages passed by as the two shared looks. It was unmistakable, there was a connection between hunter and prey.

The wolf lifted its head and exposed its neck. It knew. It knew that he was coming for it. It was as if Nast was death and the wolf tried it’s best to outrun him. This hunt was probably his longest to date and it was everything but over. Life was like the seasons, and this wolf had reached the winter of its life. Time slowed as Nast released his fingers and the bowstring sang as it urged the arrow forward.

With a sick thud the arrow pierced the wolf’s neck and penetrated the heart. The death was near instant. Nast released the breath he was holding as a sigh. He said a prayer to the forest for safe guidance to the next world for the wolf.

With the wolf in tow he made his way back home. As the sun broke the horizon he could see the smoke from the village but not the smoke he was used to. This smoke was black and thick. His heart dropped as he ran as hard as his legs could take him. He dropped the wolf on the outskirts of the village and drew his bow. All of the houses were burned and there were bodies littered everywhere. He could feel the rage rising right beneath the surface.

He heard a cough and pointed. It was one of the other rangers. He was disemboweled and he was barely holding in his insides.

“Duran!” Nast dropped his bow and slid to his side, “I can help, I can help.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I can hear the call of death.” Duran coughed some more.

“Was this the orcs?” Nast held back tears.

“Drow. They came in the night and killed most of the men and took all the women and children.” A part of his small intestine fell out.

Nast let out a wrathful cry as he stood up. He ran home and collected what things could be salvaged. He grabbed his wolf and began to track the Drow. Within a few hours he at their camp. They kept to the shade and was hidden between two rock outcroppings. Nast could see the camp below. He knew once they made it to the caves he would never find them again and his family will be gone forever.

There were five Drow below. He believed that he could take them. He nocked an arrow and had 4 arrows in his hand. He shot five arrows in quick succession at each of their hearts. The arrows burned before they reach their targets and one of the Drow, a woman stared at him. Short black hair and a scar across her face. That face, he would never forget. She held her hand out and magic missiles shot out at Nast. Before he could react he was knocked out of the tree and the ground rushed up to meet him. Before he hit the floor he was swallowed by darkness.

He could hear the Drow speaking but could only recognize it as undercommon. He could not see his body but he felt that he was bleeding from his torso. He applied pressure but he felt as if he was slipping.

“How about a little curse for our little warrior.” It was the last thing he heard before he passed out from the pain.

He dreamt of the white wolf. It was standing guard over him making sure that death would not snag him. He didn’t know how long he was out but it felt like days.

With a sharp inhale he woke. He was in a familiar bed. He was in his bed at home. His home was repaired but was empty.

“You’re awake. Even though I healed you I was unsure if you’d survive the night. But here we are three days later Half-human,” Nast recognized the Elvish but didn’t recognize the voice.

“My family, I must get to my family,” Nast tried to sit up but the Elf stopped him.

“There is nothing you can do for them now. Your mother and sister are gone. I’m sorry.”

Nast laid back down and covered his face with his arm and started to cry.

“You are still a child, one of two worlds, find a home, live your life, don’t follow the Drow.”

“I think she cursed me,” Nast said as he could feel the heaviness in his heart.

The Elf put his hand over Nast’s chest but retracted his hand quickly, “I’m sorry, I can’t fix you. But I know someone who might be able to. I met a strong human wizard who studies curses and could know something. His name is Raxis, last I saw he was in Ashhammer.”